


paint the town, take a bow

by futuresoon



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Kurusu Akira, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Time Loop, Top Akechi Goro, dick stepping, sex comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:27:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26200072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/futuresoon/pseuds/futuresoon
Summary: Kurusu’s acting strange.Kurusu’s acting strange.Kurusu’s acting strange.(Akira tries the time loop thing, but gets a little sidetracked. Goro has no idea what’s going on.)
Relationships: Akechi Goro/Kurusu Akira, Akechi Goro/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 24
Kudos: 766





	paint the town, take a bow

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Then The Morning Comes" by Smash Mouth.
> 
> Since I've heard it's a little confusing: "Individual" refers to the number of times Akira has been to that time period so far, and "Cumulative" is the number of times he's looped in general.

**2/2**

**Individual: 1. Cumulative: 1.**

Akira’s hand grabs Goro’s wrist as he heads for the door.

Goro turns around. He’s so _tired._ He doesn’t want to have to deal with--anything, but especially not Akira, not now. In less than 24 hours he’ll never have to deal with Akira again. Or anything. 

This morning he told himself he was fine with that.

He almost asks, _What do you want, Akira,_ but at this point it’s pretty clear what Akira wants, so. He doesn’t say anything.

Akira’s eyes look…brighter, than they did earlier. Less hollow. Something else. “Now’s too late to make a difference, but I’m going to fix this,” he says. “Just wait for me, okay? I mean, you won’t even have to wait very long, probably.”

Goro stares at him. “What are you _talking about,”_ he says.

Akira smiles, a little crookedly. “Just wait for me,” he says.

And then--

\---

**11/20**

**Individual: 6. Cumulative: 7.**

Goro opens the door to the interrogation room. Something’s thrumming in his blood; anticipation, presumably, but a small degree of nervousness is also acceptable, if he doesn’t let it get in the way. He wouldn’t put it past Kurusu to have something planned. It won’t _work,_ obviously, because Goro’s been planning horrible things for years and he’s much better at it, but Kurusu’s always surprising him. It might be fun to see how Kurusu tries to get out of this one.

Killing the guard is nothing. He doesn’t think about it at all. Maybe he should, because he’s never killed anyone in the real world before and it’s a little frustrating that it has to be some random guard instead of Kurusu, but that isn’t important at all. What’s important is the boy sitting in front of him, bruised and beautiful and about to die by his hand.

“I’m in love with you,” Kurusu says.

Goro stares.

“Or pretty close to it, anyway,” Kurusu hedges. “I think if I had the opportunity then eventually I would be? So I’d really like to have the opportunity, so I could find out.”

His world spins--no, _stop,_ don’t _think about it,_ shove it all away. Not important right now. Was never important. Will never-- _don’t think about it._

“…you’re living up to your codename, Joker,” Goro says. Or is Kurusu just insane?

Kurusu shakes his head. “I think it’s better to just get straight into it,” he says. “Buildup doesn’t work, apparently. So, hey, I’m basically in love with you, and I don’t want you to die, so can we talk about this?”

Goro’s having trouble processing this. “You don’t want _me_ to die,” he says slowly. “Do you even understand the situation you’re in now?” He holds up the gun. “You _do_ know what this is, right?”

“I’m pretty familiar with it, yeah,” Kurusu says. “Listen, you don’t want to do this. Or--you _do_ want to, but at the same time you don’t? I’m still not completely clear on that, but I know you don’t actually want me to _die,_ at least.”

Kurusu _is_ insane. That’s the only explanation. It’s a shame his last moments won’t be spent in perfect clarity, but--

Kurusu winces. “Oh, I know that look,” he says. “Okay. You hate me, but you don’t _just_ hate me, or you wouldn’t have taken me to all those places, right? Can you at least tell me why you did that? Think of it as a dying wish.”

“Why should I grant you a _dying wish,”_ Goro snaps. “You have no leverage here, Joker.” He should just get it over with. It won’t be as satisfying, but the moment’s pretty solidly ruined anyway.

Kurusu gives a sad, crooked little smile. “Please?” he says.

…god damn it.

Goro exhales. “Fine,” he says.

Kurusu looks like he just won the lottery. Goro considers shooting him then and there.

“I took you there because I was spying on you,” Goro says flatly. “That’s all.”

Don’t think about it.

“You didn’t need to take me to _different_ places to do that, though,” Kurusu says. “I wouldn’t have cared if we just went to the jazz club a lot. Or the café, or billiards, or the aquarium, or anywhere. Why did you keep changing it up?”

Don’t think about it.

“Different places let me see different aspects of you and get a better understanding of your overall thought process,” Goro says. “And if I went to the same place too often my fans would start to show up there. It’s not complicated.”

“It’s a _little_ complicated,” Kurusu says, cocking his head. “Or you wouldn’t have told me all that stuff about yourself. Why _did_ you do that, by the way?”

Don’t--no. This is a _plan,_ isn’t it. Kurusu’s trying to do something with this. Goro’s not going to let him.

“You’re trying to make me think that _I’m_ in love with _you,”_ Goro says disbelievingly. “For someone who can always tell where the loot is, you’re remarkably dense, Joker.”

“Not _in love_ in love,” Kurusu says. “Like I said--well, I guess maybe you’re not there yet. Or you haven’t realized you’re there yet? But I’m like 95% sure that by this point you’re at least sort of attached to me.”

At least sort of attached. What a way to put it. He may not be thinking about it now but he certainly _used_ to, ridiculous little fantasies, some sordid and some quiet and all _pathetic._ Moments of weakness this night will squash completely. 

Goro feels a headache coming on. Why is Kurusu _like this._ Although--he generally only gets this bad when he’s in the Metaverse, so--

Kurusu flashes a grin. “I do know that by now you think I’m cute,” he says.

Goro’s argument against that would be a lot stronger if earlier he hadn’t literally thought to himself that Kurusu was beautiful.

Kurusu must see something in his face. _“Exactly,”_ he says, visibly delighted. “Okay, I can work with that. If you kill me, you’ll never get to do anything about it.”

Goro puts both hands on the table, leans in close to Kurusu’s face. “I could bend you over this table _right now_ if I wanted to,” he growls.

Kurusu looks at the table. Looks at him. “…would that work?” he says, very carefully.

God, he’s thought about it a thousand different ways and he _still_ never imagined Kurusu being this insufferable. Even now, Kurusu’s full of surprises. It’s almost endearing. 

But it’s still insufferable. Goro grabs Kurusu’s hair and slams his head onto the table. “Stop _talking,”_ he hisses.

“That’s not a no,” Kurusu says, his voice somewhat muffled.

He’s almost tempted to just do it. Kurusu had a point, anyway, he’ll never know otherwise. And it has a certain appeal to it, making sure Kurusu knows just how badly he’s lost--

Although the way Kurusu’s acting, you’d think he’d consider that his victory.

Goro clenches his teeth. _Whatever._ None of this _matters,_ even Kurusu doesn’t matter in the end. It’s just a small part of something much greater, a meaningless diversion he’s going to forget about as soon as it’s over. Kurusu’s stupid face and smile and how easy it is to tell him things he’s never told anyone don’t _matter._

Goro raises Kurusu’s head. Kurusu blinks up at him, then sighs, then shrugs a little.

“At least I’ve got some new tactics to try,” Kurusu says.

Kurusu is incomprehensible to the end. Goro puts the barrel to his head, doesn’t allow himself to think anything else, and pulls the trigger.

\---

**11/18**

**Individual: 3. Cumulative: 38.**

**Kurusu:** Actually, can you come to Leblanc instead? I’m not really feeling the jazz club tonight

Well. Goro’s being indulgent with all this anyway, the location doesn’t really make a difference. One last pleasant distraction, and then this’ll all be out of his system and he can put a bullet in Kurusu’s brain as easily as he’d pick which tie to wear with his uniform. It was entertaining, but it ends tomorrow.

But it will be nice to see Kurusu one last time.

 **Akechi:** Of course. I’ll be there soon.

He pockets his phone and heads for Yongen-Jaya.

When he gets there, the CLOSED sign is already up. Not that it makes a difference; the lights are still on, and Kurusu is waiting by the counter, eyes on the door. He stands up the moment he sees Goro.

Goro waves as he opens the door, the bell above jingling. He wonders if this is the last time he’ll hear it. Leblanc will likely be torn apart by Shido’s men after the arrest, and Sakura may not even make it back. It’s a shame. He really did like the coffee here. And the company, but--well, the coffee is what’s relevant for this particular train of thought.

“Good evening,” Goro says, giving a pleasant smile. Not quite the one from TV--Kurusu knows the veracity of that one. But still normal, still friendly. It’s possible Kurusu might imagine Goro doesn’t smile like this very often around other people. Which isn’t entirely inaccurate, but it’s still not an especially real one. Goro’s real smiles, he’s been told, are at best assumed to be sarcastic and at worst actively unsettling. He doesn’t use them much.

“Hi,” Kurusu says. He’s not wearing his glasses, for some reason. He fiddles with his bangs a little. It’s an endearing tic. A lot of things about Kurusu are endearing--or interesting, or entertaining, or their own type of unsettling. He used to wonder if he could peel Kurusu apart like an onion, see how many layers there were underneath. Kurusu is a fascinating matryoshka doll of a person, always pulling out some new surprise. Goro’s going to miss him.

Kurusu takes a deep breath. “Want to have sex with me?” he asks.

Goro blinks.

Even on this last evening, Kurusu can still surprise him.

He half-expects Kurusu to follow that up with something--an awkward _I mean, you don’t have to, of course,_ or maybe _I’m so sorry if I misread this._ Kurusu doesn’t. He just stands there, gray eyes fixed on Goro, mouth straight, waiting for an answer.

Goro gives a little laugh. “That’s a bit much to spring on me as soon as I got here, isn’t it?”

“I thought I’d get to the point,” Kurusu says. “There’s only so much time left.”

No, there rather isn’t, isn’t there.

Goro considers it. It’s certainly more than he was expecting; he’d planned for one last evening of good conversation, and then he’d go home and get ready for tomorrow and that would be that. Getting _too_ attached to Kurusu is a bad idea, has always been a bad idea. Even before he was certain he’d have to kill him, there just wasn’t room in his life for another person, much less one as unpredictable and stubbornly altruistic as Kurusu. And of course Kurusu would never accept a one-time thing, or even a casual thing. He’d probably be picking out a reception hall after one night together.

But this is the _last_ night. Two days from now, Kurusu won’t be doing much of anything ever again. There’s really no drawback to this, is there? Maybe there won’t be as much conversation as he’d hoped for, but it’ll still be enjoyable. 

And now that the thought’s in his head, it…seems like a good idea. A very good idea. This way, he’ll never have the vague regret of never having indulged himself with Kurusu, never knowing what it’s like to kiss him or what kind of sounds he makes or what he looks like when he comes undone.

Goro smiles. “I suppose I’d be up for that,” he says.

Kurusu looks--simultaneously relieved and maybe a little smug, which Goro finds strangely charming. “Okay,” Kurusu says with a little smile. “Come on upstairs. Morgana’s out.”

Was Kurusu expecting this result, or did Morgana just make himself scarce for whatever reason? It doesn’t really matter in the end. Goro follows Kurusu up the creaky attic stairs.

The hideout setup is all put away. Kurusu’s room is still a bit of a disaster. But a charming one, in its way. If Goro thinks too much about it he’ll probably start getting into metaphor territory, so instead he just says, “Been thinking about this for long?” in a light, conversational tone that he hopes indicates he’s not taking this too seriously.

Kurusu rubs the back of his neck. Another endearing tic. “I mean, you’re hot and you kept inviting me out and telling me how interesting I was, I wasn’t gonna _not_ think about it,” he says.

Goro smiles. “I can’t say I intended this to happen, but it did cross my mind a few times.” A few. Dozen. Hundred? “But I’m always so busy, I didn’t want to lead you on. I hope you realize this won’t be anything serious.”

Kurusu seems less disappointed by that than he expected. Huh. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “You’ve got a lot on your plate. I just thought this’d be fun.” Surprising, given what Goro thought earlier about reception halls, but Joker’s always a mystery.

Goro wonders what the best tactic would be here. What’s Kurusu hoping for? Slow and sweet? Wildly passionate? Assumptions seem to be going out the window.

But he’s never going to find out if they both just keep standing there, so he takes a step forward and another step forward and puts one hand around the back of Kurusu’s head and kisses him.

Kurusu yields to it immediately. Maybe not slow, then. Goro savors the wet warmth of his mouth, running his hand through Kurusu’s surprisingly untangled hair and pulling Kurusu closer to him. Kurusu seems to melt right into it, looping his arms around Goro’s shoulders. They’re both wearing entirely too many layers for this.

Goro reluctantly pulls back, takes off his shoes. Really, it’s strange to be wearing them in someone’s bedroom at all, even if it is technically a storage space. Kurusu follows suit.

Coat, tie, gloves--just to see what sort of reaction he gets from it, Goro takes one of his gloves off with his teeth; Kurusu’s eyes zero in on his hand like Kitagawa noticing unattended jagariko. The other one comes off normally, discarded onto the couch with the increasing pile of clothes.

There’s still a ways to go, but he’s spent far too much time not kissing Kurusu, so he gets back to that. Kurusu is warm and pliable and seems to want him to take the lead, which Goro can’t decide he expected or not. Another layer to the matryoshka. Another aspect he’ll never learn anything more about after tonight. 

Goro runs a hand up Kurusu’s shirt, feels the lean muscles there. _That_ isn’t a mystery; they saw plenty of each other at the bathhouse, though of course decorum prevented actual examination. Closer to an acrobat than a prizefighter. Goro’s more than fine with that, although, to be frank, he suspects he’d be fine with whatever Kurusu looked like; the pretty face certainly helps, but it’s the mind that draws him in. Fascinating, unpredictable, and for tonight--maybe forever, given what Kurusu’s last moments will be--focused entirely on him.

He’s used to being wanted for various reasons. It’s just…nice, to be wanted by someone who’s seen a fraction of who he really is and doesn’t seem to care.

It really is a shame Kurusu has to die. If things were different, then--

Things aren’t different. Don’t drag yourself down with foolish sentiment. Concentrate on what’s happening now; it’s all you’re ever going to get.

He mouths at Kurusu’s neck, imagines marking up the pale skin there. Doesn’t, because if anyone else sees it there’ll be questions, and the process of elimination for determining Kurusu’s secret paramour will be swift and awkward. Besides, there’s not much in his life that truly belongs to him. Adding Kurusu to the collection of secrets that make up the sum of Goro’s real possessions feels appropriate. Memory is the one thing about Kurusu that Goro can allow himself to keep.

Best to get a move on with those memories, then, before the fragile bubble of their time together bursts. He walks Kurusu backwards to the pathetic excuse for a bed, and Kurusu falls back onto it without needing to be pushed.

Kissing Kurusu, Goro decides, is one of his favorite things to do, possibly the best thing he’s ever done, and right now he can’t quite recall what his reasons were for not doing it sooner. The warm mouth yielding to him, the soft lips against his, the hands on his back and in his hair; it somehow manages to feel both thrilling and comfortable at the same time. It feels a little like he could just stay here forever, soak in that warmth and never have to think about anything other than this strange, wonderful boy ever again.

Kurusu shifts underneath him, a hard line pressing against his thigh, and Goro remembers the reason for all of this is rather more than kissing, even though he suspects he’d be fine with just that. Very well; he’s hardly opposed to the idea, though it’s with great reluctance that he pulls back to start unbuttoning his shirt.

Kurusu shimmies out of his own button-less shirt much faster. Kurusu’s naked before Goro’s barely started with his pants, which makes for an awkward few moments, and then he’s crouched over Kurusu, the air heavy between them.

It’s quite a sight, Kurusu flushed underneath him, lips red and slightly swollen, chest rising and falling with expectant breaths. Goro commits it to memory just like all the rest of this, something to look back on later in the rare moments he allows himself to be sentimental.

“Just what were you hoping for, when you asked me up here?” Goro murmurs.

Kurusu’s smile is as sharp as his daggers. “Fuck me,” he says, very steadily. “I want to remember this. Don’t worry about bruises or whatever, I don’t care. I _want_ bruises. Don’t hold anything back.”

Goro’s breath catches in his throat. Joker, the endless matryoshka. “That’s quite an idea,” he breathes. “I can’t say I mind it.”

Regardless of the appeal of secrets, there’s another appeal, too--the idea that Kurusu might still be feeling this at the end, that his body might remember Goro’s even in his last moments. He could mark up Kurusu before the police do, leave his own scattered reminders that Kurusu was outmaneuvered from the start. 

And Kurusu’s _asking_ for this. Kurusu wants something from him, specifically, that only he can provide, that isn’t distasteful or uninteresting or beneficial to someone he despises. He’s not even asking for something from the Detective Prince, really, he’s asking for--even if Kurusu doesn’t entirely know it, he’s asking for _Goro._

Who is Goro to say no to that?

Goro leans down. Mouths at Kurusu’s neck again, nips, and bites, _hard._

Kurusu inhales sharply, digs his fingers into Goro’s shoulder blades. Goro trails smaller bites and marks down the column of his throat, sucking at the abused skin. One of his hands is tangled in Kurusu’s hair, sharply pulling it. Kurusu whimpers a little, and it’s the best sound Goro’s ever heard.

Goro lowers his other hand between them. Their cocks are already pressed together, sending little sparks of pleasure with every brush of movement, and he wraps his fingers around Kurusu’s, rubs his thumb over the head. Kurusu’s breath is already coming out in little pants. The idea of making him come right here and now curls in Goro’s gut. Kurusu’s probably got the stamina for another, and he wants to commit the sight to memory as much as he can. But they’ve barely gotten started, and there’s so much more he can do.

Instead, he lowers his hand more, one finger teasing around Kurusu’s entrance, barely pressing in. Kurusu gives a shuddering breath. Goro looks back at his face; Kurusu’s eyes are closed, his lips parted, his head leaning into Goro’s hand in his hair. God, Kurusu’s _so_ beautiful, especially like this. They really should have been doing this months ago. It’s unfair that Goro only gets to see this now, just before the end.

More unfair for Kurusu, of course. But Kurusu’s last moments will only be moments, and he could’ve been showing Kurusu a good time much more often than this. He briefly lets himself imagine mornings after--waking up wrapped in warmth and easy affection, Kurusu sleepy-eyed and satiated and with even worse bedhead than usual, coffee and company much better than he’d find at the station. He realizes, dimly, that thinking about that too much makes him feel a little cold, so he stops.

What he _does_ think about is bringing his fingers to his mouth and laving them as much as is feasible, skimming Kurusu’s cock with his palm as he brings one slick finger back down against Kurusu’s entrance and presses in more definitively. Kurusu makes that whimpering noise again. Goro’s cock throbs. He pushes his finger in more, down to the second knuckle, and curls it as best he can. There’s a fair amount of resistance--for all Kurusu seems to be enjoying this, there must still be some nerves. Well, Goro can work with that. He presses in the tip of a second finger.

Kurusu’s breath is coming in heavier pants now; Goro glances up at his face and catches the last second of a wince. He hesitates. Kurusu did _say_ not to hold back, but…

“Are you--” he starts.

“If you stop I’m kicking you out,” Kurusu says hoarsely. 

Well, then.

The second finger takes more effort than the first. Goro lowers his other hand down to brace against Kurusu’s hip. He manages a scissoring motion, brushing against something that makes Kurusu flinch and cry out; brushes against it again, harder, rubs until Kurusu’s a quivering mess and his cock is leaking against Goro’s stomach. That seems to lessen the tension a bit, and the third finger still takes effort, but not as much.

There could probably stand to be more preparation, and to be honest Goro sort of wants to, wants to see Kurusu fall apart entirely just from this. But if Kurusu wants to ache, Goro’s happy to oblige. He withdraws his fingers. Kurusu opens his eyes, and there’s a long, breathless moment between them, an eternity of expectation.

Goro takes hold of his cock and leans forward, his other hand still on Kurusu’s hip. Presses the tip against Kurusu’s entrance. Pushes forward. Kurusu’s breath stutters.

Goro’s own breath goes heavy. Kurusu doesn’t want slow and careful, so--he thrusts harder, and Kurusu cries out, tangles a hand in Goro’s hair. 

Truth be told, Goro doesn’t have…the _most_ experience with this; two very mediocre times he frankly thinks of as more educational than entertaining, and a few less elaborate encounters, but all of those were tactical, done for some other reason than personal interest. Not that they were unpleasant, per se, but he wouldn’t count them as high points in his life. On the infrequent occasions he’s found his thoughts drifting in that direction, he settles for memories of websites he long ago wiped from his search history.

And maybe that’s been more frequent in the last five months; maybe the thoughts have had a more specific bent. Maybe the idea of Kurusu warm and pliant underneath him has cropped up enough times that he’s mostly figured out the blocking.

In any case. Of course this is exponentially better than that. He couldn’t have imagined the exact pitch of the little moans spilling from Kurusu’s lips, the exact clinging heat inside Kurusu’s body, the exact tiny thrill of Kurusu’s fingernails digging into his back. He gets into a rhythm, thrusting in and out roughly enough that he distantly wonders if Kurusu will be able to walk tomorrow, though Kurusu did ask for this and in this moment he’d probably do almost anything if Kurusu asked.

It’s a rush, electric, burning, like all of his nerve endings are on fire at once. It’s the thrill of cutting into a Shadow, but different, an entirely different type of exhilaration. Being inside Kurusu is like nothing else he’s ever felt. Seeing Kurusu flushed underneath him is like nothing else he’s ever seen. Hearing Kurusu’s gasps growing stronger and more ragged is like nothing else he’s ever heard.

He takes one hand off Kurusu’s hips and slides it onto Kurusu’s cock, roughly stroking it out of time with his thrusts. Kurusu moans even louder, and suddenly Goro’s never wanted anything as much as he wants to make Kurusu scream.

Goro leans down and sinks his teeth into the unmarked side of Kurusu’s neck. The thrusts reach a fever pitch, his hand on Kurusu’s cock is rough enough to be painful, and Kurusu’s fingernails might be drawing blood; _finally,_ a ragged scream rips from Kurusu’s throat as his cock pulses in Goro’s hand and splatters hot liquid against Goro’s stomach and chest.

It’s the most intensely satisfying thing Goro’s ever done.

More satisfying, even, than Goro’s own climax not long after, spilling into Kurusu with a low moan. They’re both panting, sticky with sweat and other fluids, riding out the high.

Eventually, Goro pulls out. He almost doesn’t want to, wants to stay connected to Kurusu as long as he can. There’s not enough room on the bed for them to both be on their backs, so he shifts onto his side, watches Kurusu breathe.

Kurusu looks over at him. Gives a wide, genuine, breathless smile.

Something in Goro’s chest clenches.

The concept of unfairness returns with a vengeance. _Why_ did fate conspire to trap them in a situation where this can only happen once and after tomorrow he will never see Kurusu’s smile again; why are they not allowed nights and mornings and any other time; why will he never feel any of these things again, why, why, why.

A very small part of him whispers-- _if you want--_

_If you want, you can--_

But it’s crushed by the weight of eighteen years of hatred. 

Kurusu brushes a lock of hair from Goro’s face, and Goro hates a lot of things, but right now what he hates most is himself.

Kurusu exhales. “Okay,” he says. “I thought that one went pretty well, but maybe not.”

Goro’s eyebrows crease. What does Kurusu mean by that?

Kurusu cricks his neck, takes a deep breath, gives a sharp little grin. “Well, practice makes perfect,” he says.

\---

**10/26**

**Individual: 2. Cumulative: 54.**

Everything’s going well. The Phantom Thieves seem to be believing him without reservation--or rather, with a lot of reservation, but more in that they just don’t like him, not in that they have even the slightest guess what he’s actually up to.

Goro doesn’t really care if they like him. They’re not _intolerable,_ generally--if he had to, he could probably come up with some trait or another for each of them that he doesn’t hate. Sakura’s intelligence is almost dangerous, and there’s a certain steeliness beneath Okumura’s fluff. Even Sakamoto, thick-headed as he is, seems to share a trace of the anger that’s been powering Goro for the last eleven years, and Goro has to very begrudgingly respect that.

Kurusu…

Goro apparently has no problem whatsoever listing things he likes about Kurusu, so that’s irrelevant.

The _point_ is, they just have to believe him, they don’t have to be friends with him. And they seem to be doing that.

As they start to file out of the PE faculty office, Kurusu says, “You guys go on ahead, I want to talk to Akechi about some stuff.”

The others make vaguely affirming noises and continue to leave. Morgana looks back and forth between Goro and Kurusu, perhaps considering something.

Kurusu nods at Morgana. “You too,” he says. “Don’t wait up, it might be a while.”

Morgana flicks his tail. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll head home with Futaba, then.” And he hops off the counter and follows the others out the door.

The door closes behind them. Kurusu turns to Goro and says, “So, it’s been a little while since we last hung out.”

“Besides yesterday, you mean?” Goro says pleasantly. “I suppose it has. Did you want to go somewhere?”

Jazz Jin won’t be open yet, but perhaps Penguin Sniper. Or the café. Or Kurusu might pick the location for once; there are a great deal of places to go in Tokyo, and Goro would rather like to know if there are any Kurusu is interested in. As much as he enjoys showing Kurusu his usual haunts, it might be nice to go somewhere neither of them have been, to discover it together and share their findings with each other.

Kurusu rubs the back of his neck. “Nah, here’s fine,” he says. “Listen, have you ever thought…” His words trail off, his eyes drop to the floor. 

Goro waits a polite moment before asking, “Have I ever thought what?”

Kurusu looks back up and shakes his head. “Forget it, that one never works anyway. Hey, can I blow you?”

The oddity of the first sentence is overpowered by the second.

“Um,” Goro says, eloquently. “Pardon?”

“It’s a pretty simple question,” Kurusu says, even though it absolutely isn’t. “Can I? I’d really like to.”

Goro pinches the bridge of his nose. “Kurusu,” he says, very steadily. “Ignoring the fact that that is not the kind of relationship we have, we are at a _school.”_

“Yeah, but everyone’s at the festival and no one uses this room anyway,” Kurusu says. “And I really like you.” He says it so _casually,_ like it’s the sort of thing you can just admit to, not examine from twenty different angles and bury in the back of your head because thinking about it is pointless and strangely disquieting.

Kurusu’s joking, surely. It’s a ridiculous question for the situation, and anyway Kurusu’s never seemed the exhibitionist type, or the type to suggest sex out of nowhere, or to confess via propositioning. 

Kurusu’s also currently biting his lip, and Goro finds it difficult to look at anything else.

“It’s just been a while since we were able to spend time together,” Kurusu says, a little softly. “And we’ll be really busy with Sae’s Palace after this, so…I don’t know if there’ll really be a _right_ time.”

Oh, god, Kurusu’s looking up at him through those absurdly long eyelashes. “Unless you don’t like me that way?” he asks, _nervously,_ he asks it _nervously._

Everything about Kurusu should be illegal. “I wouldn’t say I... _dis_ like you,” Goro starts, and is not completely sure how he’s going to finish.

Kurusu exhales. There’s a red mark on his lower lip where he bit it. “But not the same way,” he says quietly. “That’s okay, I get it. Sorry to bother you.” He turns around, starts walking to the door.

Two parts of Goro’s mind have an instantaneous but fervent discussion.

 _It’s for the best,_ says one of them. _It’s very likely Shido will order you to kill him. There’s no point getting any more attached than you already are. And he’s acting strange, anyway._

 _Kurusu always acts strange,_ says the other one. _And maybe the plan will still work if the Phantom Thieves are merely disgraced. There’s no harm in this. It’s just a little stress relief. If anything, Kurusu will trust you more afterwards._

 _Kurusu trusts the Detective Prince, and the Detective Prince wouldn’t have sex in a high school faculty office,_ says the first one.

 _Yeah but you fucking hate being that guy anyway so what does it even matter,_ says the other one.

Almost unthinkingly, Goro finds himself grabbing Kurusu’s arm and saying, “Wait.”

Kurusu turns back around. Who gave him the right to have eyes like that. He doesn’t say anything, just blinks, bright-eyed and hopeful.

“I…suppose…I would be amenable to that,” Goro says, very carefully. 

Kurusu lights up. “Great!” he says, and immediately drops to his knees.

“…straight to the point, I see,” Goro manages, while Kurusu’s already started undoing the fly on Goro’s pants.

“I mean, I’ve thought about it a lot,” Kurusu says, conversationally. “And we probably shouldn’t play the odds _too_ much, one of the others might come back for something.” Kurusu pulls down the zipper.

Goro briefly imagines the other Phantom Thieves walking in and seeing their leader with Goro’s cock in his mouth. It’s far more thrilling than it should be. Then he stops imagining that, because Kurusu’s dexterous fingers are pulling out his cock and it’s difficult to think about anything else.

It’s almost embarrassing how quickly Goro’s getting hard, but also Goro’s rapidly beyond caring. Kurusu leans in, parts his lips, lightly flicks his tongue against the head of Goro’s cock.

A tiny shudder runs through Goro’s body. Kurusu leans in farther, swirls his tongue around the head and takes it into his mouth.

Of course Goro’s thought about this, of course Goro’s pictured Kurusu on his knees plenty of times; Kurusu’s objectively beautiful and fascinating and just frustrating enough that Goro’s put fairly extensive thought into different ways of putting him in his place. But no thought could measure up to the actual heat of Kurusu’s mouth. Goro’s breath stutters a little as Kurusu’s tongue laps at his cock, warm and wet and far better than any idle fantasy.

Goro manages to take a moment to slip off his gloves before resting his hands on Kurusu’s head. Kurusu’s hair is softer than he expected, far less tangled than it appears. Kurusu gives a content little hum that ripples through Goro’s body.

Kurusu’s soft lips slide forward, envelop more of Goro’s cock into his mouth. Goro bites back a moan. The glide of Kurusu’s tongue is almost unbearable. Goro’s fingers dig harder into Kurusu’s hair, and the sound Kurusu makes goes deep into Goro’s bones.

He runs his fingers through Kurusu’s hair, cradling the back of his head. The angle is obscene, but it gives him a good look at how long Kurusu’s eyelashes are, how they flutter when Goro accidentally jerks his hips forward. How Kurusu’s pressing a palm against his own groin, an erection forming even when Goro hasn’t done anything. The idea that this alone is enough to get Kurusu hard burns in Goro’s stomach.

Kurusu’s lips around his cock are just slightly shiny with saliva, a little redder than before. Goro wonders, briefly, how Kurusu got good at this; he never showed any interest of that kind in Sakamoto or Kitagawa, and he’s hardly popular at school. Maybe he was more popular at his old school. The image of Kurusu on his knees for some boy Goro’s never met brings a faint tinge of jealousy; but also a faint tinge of pride, because any boy from Kurusu’s hometown must’ve abandoned him like all the rest, and now Kurusu is _here,_ with him, any previous experience just buildup for this.

It’s a silly thing to feel proud over. Sex isn’t that big a deal, and clearly Kurusu doesn’t think so either, if he’s willing to propose it in a school faculty office to someone he’s not in a relationship with. 

But Goro does feel a little proud, all the same, that if Kurusu needed an outlet he wanted it to be him.

Which is what this is, clearly. It’s hardly romantic, and surely if Kurusu _had_ been interested in anything more complicated he would have proposed this after one of their outings, recontextualizing it into a date with a hopeful smile. Kurusu’s obviously got experience, so it makes sense that he’d be a little pent-up after, what, six months without? More, probably, given that the arrest was before that.

And it’s not like Goro’s looking for anything either. Just stress relief with pretty eyes and an illegal smile.

Kurusu does something complicated with his tongue. Goro puts a hand over his mouth to hold back an undignified moan, and he swears the following tiny lick is Kurusu’s way of saying he noticed.

Eventually, it’s all too much; Goro barely manages to keep an even louder moan trapped in his throat as his hips jerk and he comes in Kurusu’s mouth, splattering against the back of his throat. He knows it’s not a particularly pleasant taste, but Kurusu doesn’t complain, just swallows and pulls back and licks his lips like he’s chasing the last of it.

Goro’s never been the type to tire after orgasm. And Kurusu’s clearly still in need of attending to. As Kurusu straightens up, about to speak, Goro slips one hand around his hip and one hand down his waistband, and whatever Kurusu was about to say catches in his throat as Goro’s hand wraps around his cock. There’s a breathless look in Kurusu’s eyes.

For a moment, Goro thinks Kurusu’s going to kiss him. For a moment, he thinks he might let him.

But Kurusu just lets his forehead fall onto Goro’s shoulder, breathing heavily as Goro pulls his cock out of his pants and rubs a thumb over the tip.

It doesn’t take long. Kurusu makes a small, soft noise, shuddering as he comes into Goro’s hand. 

Goro can’t claim it was anything more than businesslike, but Kurusu seems to have appreciated it anyway. Kurusu raises his head, pulls back just a little. “Thanks,” he says, a tiny grin lighting up his face.

Goro wishes, profoundly and morosely, that he was capable of doing anything for that smile.

“It’s only fair,” Goro points out. 

“Probably shouldn’t surprise me at this point,” Kurusu says. Which brings up two emotions; slight consternation that Kurusu thought he wouldn’t reciprocate, and another vaguely jealous reminder that Kurusu seems to have done this a lot. Which really shouldn’t matter. Still, Goro imagines any previous partners would’ve been clumsier, not nearly appreciative enough of what they got. 

For just a moment, Kurusu seems to be holding back a laugh. Goro’s not sure why.

Goro wipes off the mess with a tissue from a nearby desk, dropping it into a trashcan and hoping the janitor doesn’t pay much attention to it. They both rearrange their clothes. Kurusu pauses. “So…this really didn’t mean anything, right?” he says.

Goro’s eyebrows press together. “Right,” he echoes. “Was that unclear?”

“No, yeah, I got it,” Kurusu says. “I was just, you know.” He shrugs one shoulder, blinks those ridiculously long eyelashes. “Thinking.”

 _Don’t ask, don’t ask,_ Goro tells himself, and then asks, “About?”

Kurusu tugs at a forelock of his hair. “Would it really be that bad if it meant something?”

Goro swallows. Doesn’t let anything show on his face. “We’re both busy people,” he says. “And I’m the one putting a stop to what seems like a very important aspect of your life.”

_And if Shido asks, I’ll--_

“We’re still friends, though,” Kurusu says. “I don’t actually really do this stuff with people I only sort of like. I care about you. Uh. A lot?”

His eyes are so bright. His voice is so hopeful.

 _How are you real,_ Goro doesn’t say. _What god created you? Surely not whatever made me._

“I can’t say I’m not flattered,” Goro says. Pleasantly. Politely. “But I’m afraid I don’t feel the same way.”

_Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about it._

Kurusu sighs. “Yeah,” he says heavily. “I don’t really know why I thought this time would be different.”

Is Kurusu used to rejection? That seems impossible. No one in their right mind would do that, surely. But he looks genuinely resigned. Goro has the ridiculous urge to find whoever made him feel like that and do something he shouldn’t.

“Well,” Goro says, awkwardly. “I should get going. Thank you for the good time.”

Kurusu taps his fingers on his hip, almost absently. Doesn’t look at Goro. “No problem,” he says. “It’s not like I’ve got a time limit. Okay, let’s try again.”

\---

**7/29**

**Individual: 4. Cumulative: 78.**

Goro really does have a fondness for the aquarium.

Despite the frequent presence of children, the atmosphere is generally soothing, conversation in hushed whispers as if to respect the silence of the fish. The lighting is soft, the aquatic inhabitants generally moving at a sedate pace. 

The fact that Kurusu seems to enjoy it too is yet another point in his apparently limitless favor.

The presence of the journalist was potentially troublesome, but she left soon enough, and Kurusu’s been content to browse the rows of glass with him since, offering the occasional comment or fascinating viewpoint. And in the comparatively low light, Kurusu doesn’t seem to have noticed how Goro’s gaze sometimes flickers to him, to the play of reflection on his face, blue light tinting his glasses and pale skin and lips.

Honestly, Goro hasn’t spent that much time looking at the fish. He invited Kurusu here for the usual reasons he invites Kurusu anywhere; the pleasant backdrop is a bonus. 

They’ve made a circuit of the building, covered fish large and small and colorful and plain, and now they’re near the entrance again. Time for the spell to break, alas.

“Well, that was lovely,” Goro says pleasantly. “But it seems we’ve run out of fish, so I’ll let you go for the evening.”

Kurusu cocks his head. “That’s all?” he says, looking oddly disappointed.

Goro blinks. “Did I imply different plans?”

Kurusu runs a hand back through his hair. It’s an annoyingly cool gesture. “I mean, Ohya said it,” he says. “Lots of couples here. Pretty popular date spot. When you invited me, I figured…” He shrugs one shoulder.

Oh. That’s--

Goro gives a small laugh. “I’m sorry, did you think this was a _date?”_ he says, his voice perfectly modulated to an exact degree of polite but not unfriendly incredulity, completely burying the horror rising in his throat.

“I mean,” Kurusu says. “I was hoping it was, anyway.”

“Well, I’m flattered,” Goro says, instead of, _you weren’t supposed to actually notice._ “But…you do know what I do for a living, yes? Even if I were so inclined, pursuing a relationship with another man would be an irreparable blow to my public image.”

“I wasn’t asking for a proposal in the streets,” Kurusu says with a faint smile. “What we’ve already been doing is fine. I was just wondering if sometimes we could go back to your apartment.”

“…and I take it that by ‘sometimes’, you mean ‘now’,” Goro finds himself saying.

Kurusu rubs the back of his neck. “That’s what I was hoping, yeah,” he says.

It’s ridiculous. Even beyond the reasons he already said, and how getting attached to anyone but especially Kurusu is a bad idea, he doesn’t _know_ Kurusu very well, not really. They’ve gone on a handful of…outings, and texted some, but it’s barely been a month and a half. He _likes_ Kurusu, but he hardly trusts him. 

Sure, Kurusu’s attractive. Sure, he’s thought about it a few times. But not _seriously._ Besides, it’s wildly out of character for the Detective Prince to take someone back to his apartment. Suspicious, even. He can’t afford to break character anywhere, but especially not in front of Kurusu. 

Although--

Although nothing. 

\-- _although,_ Kurusu is _very_ attractive, and--in a different world where none of those things mattered--

But they matter in this one. He opens his mouth to reject Kurusu again.

Before he can, Kurusu says, “I just kind of got the feeling you liked me, you know? You didn’t _have_ to spend time with me, and it probably cut into your schedule anyway, so I figured maybe there was something to this.” He fiddles with a lock of his hair. “It seems like you don’t have a lot of people you can talk to like this. I don’t want to say you seem _lonely,_ but…it does feel like you really like having me around.”

God _damn_ it all.

He can’t say Kurusu is _wrong_ there; regardless of how well he actually knows him, Goro values Kurusu’s company more than anyone else’s, though that is admittedly not a high barrier. Kurusu always seems content to go along with whatever conversational path Goro’s interested in at the moment, and on the occasions where Kurusu’s more active in the dialogue it’s practically exciting, a tiny rush of engaging someone who’s almost an equal, intelligent and insightful and almost uncanny at saying the right thing to spur Goro on further. In his head Goro’s been throwing around the word ‘rival’, examining it for a potential match, and he was vaguely thinking about mentioning it at some point, seeing what Kurusu thought.

Except what Kurusu has been thinking is apparently _boyfriend,_ which is--

For a moment, Goro’s mind dips into the recent fantasy of what kissing Kurusu would feel like.

It could go so many ways, as full of inscrutable possibility as Kurusu himself. Goro prefers to think about the more passionate options, but if Kurusu was more interested in something slow and languorous Goro thinks he’d probably be fine with that too. 

It’s far, far too risky. There are greater priorities in his life than a boy with pretty eyes and clever words.

“I get that you’ve got a lot going on,” Kurusu says. “I don’t want to get in the way of anything. I’m not asking for it to happen a lot, even, just…” He gives a helpless little smile. “We could try it once? See how it goes?”

… _once_ wouldn’t be so bad, surely.

He’s still got an hour or so free before he needs to get back to catching up on his studies. 

It doesn’t have to actually mean anything. Just having a good time with Kurusu, an extension to the outing; it might even be mediocre enough that neither of them will be interested in trying again, though Goro rather strongly doubts that. _Once_ would be okay. As long as Kurusu understands that it’s just once.

“If it really is just _once,”_ Goro says evenly. “To get it out of your system. We still wouldn’t be in a relationship, you understand. The factors preventing that haven’t changed just because you’re insistent about it.”

Kurusu nods. His face has brightened, the corner of his mouth has quirked up. Goro is struck by the desperate urge to kiss it.

“Once,” Kurusu repeats. “Yeah, I can work with that. Let’s get going, then.”

And after that everything seems to go very quickly for a while.

They’re on the train, standing too close together; they’re taking the walk back to Goro’s building; they’re on the elevator; they’re at the door; they’re inside, they’re…

Kurusu’s very persuasive. By the time everything slows down again, Goro’s already a knuckle deep inside him.

Kurusu’s back is slightly arched, his breathing heavy and eyes lidded as Goro opens him up. He somehow already looks disheveled; perhaps it’s the hair. Perhaps he just always looks a little like this and Goro’s never going to be able to not think about it again when he sees him. Which is a very unsettling thought, so Goro goes back to concentrating on what he’s doing.

Goro’s admittedly limited experience was more mechanical, perfunctory, a not unpleasant but not particularly satisfying way of acquiring something or another, trust or a favor or some useful thing. Kurusu is a vastly different person than any of them were, and seeing him laid out before him like this is far more enthralling, far more enticing. His breath catches at the sight, the sound, the feel of Kurusu’s body under and around him.

Kurusu makes a small, soft sound as Goro brushes against one spot, and another as he rubs at it again. It’s both endearing and obscene, which neatly sums up the situation.

Another finger, and Goro’s cock aches at the way Kurusu whimpers and almost pants. How often has Kurusu done this, anyway? Though it’s hardly the time to get jealous and isn’t really his business to begin with.

Another finger, and Kurusu opens his eyes to pant, “I’m _ready,_ come _on,”_ and, well, who is Goro to say no.

He has a few condoms in the nightstand, though when he purchased them and the lube he’d rather hoped he wouldn’t need them any time soon; more fool he, apparently, though he couldn’t have expected this. He couldn’t have expected anything about Kurusu, the wit or the insight or the smile or the longing look in his eyes. 

Goro rips open the little foil packet and rolls the condom on. They lock eyes, just for a moment. 

In that moment, Goro is almost unsettled. There’s a depth of affection there that doesn’t quite match up with the limited timespan of their acquaintance. But perhaps it shouldn’t be surprising that Kurusu gets attached quickly, given the rate at which he acquires friends. And it’s not…bad, exactly, to see it, but it is a little overwhelming. 

God, Kurusu has no intention of letting this be once, does he.

But Goro can deal with that later. Right now, all he needs to do is adjust his cock against Kurusu’s entrance and slowly push forward.

Even through the condom, the clinging heat brings a hot coil of desire to his stomach. Kurusu’s low moan and arched back coil it further. Without any suggestions to go with, Goro settles for slow, a languid push that sets his nerves on fire and makes Kurusu writhe.

The passion he envisioned seems content to be banked, replaced by what Goro is somewhat alarmed to realize might as well be intimacy. Not caution, just taking his time, drawing it out so they can stay connected for longer, retain the joining of their bodies for just a little more. 

It’s hardly as if Kurusu is fragile. It’s just…nice, maybe, to linger here. 

He rocks gently into Kurusu like they have all the time in the world, basking in the little breathy moans spilling from Kurusu’s lips. His hands grip Kurusu’s hips, not hard enough to bruise, just to keep him anchored. Kurusu’s long legs shake slightly as they wrap around Goro’s waist, pulling him in farther, closer, drawing their bodies together. His arms cling to Goro’s back, bringing them almost close enough to kiss.

It’s so strange. And--well, a lot of adjectives, but of all the ways their relationship could’ve gone, taking Kurusu to bed like this was never high on the list. Growing closer as rivals, yes, learning more about what makes Kurusu tick and what places he likes to go and if he’s any good at chess, or as foes, battling to the end in a dark corner of the Metaverse and only one of them emerging the victor, but not…tight heat and warm skin and blissed-out sounds. Certainly not whatever was in Kurusu’s eyes earlier.

If he had to choose, though. Goro thinks this one might be okay.

Kurusu seems to think so, anyway, and right now not a whole lot exists in the world besides him.

Goro goes just a little faster, pushes against the spot that makes Kurusu tremble. Wraps one of his hands around Kurusu’s cock, stroking it up and down and thumbing the head of it. Feels a little faint at the way Kurusu’s entire body shudders, clenching around him with a fluttery cry.

His sweaty hair clings to his face. He wonders, briefly, when the last time was he felt this good, and can’t quite recall.

Of course it can’t last forever. Him first, spilling into Kurusu with a low moan; Kurusu shortly after, against Goro’s chest and stomach, a beautiful sound wrenched from his throat. Goro stills for a few moments, breathing heavily, not quite willing to separate from Kurusu yet.

Kurusu shifts his hands, takes hold of Goro’s head, pulls him down for a languid kiss. Goro lets himself melt into it. Kurusu’s mouth is just as warm and welcoming as the rest of him.

Perhaps an eternity passes before Goro finally forces himself to withdraw, breaking apart from the kiss and pulling out of Kurusu. The loss of connection feels somehow disquieting. But nothing can last forever, least of all this.

He pulls off the condom, ties it, drops it in a waste paper basket near his desk. Grabs some tissues and wipes the mess off his torso. Briefly wonders what Kurusu’s come tastes like. Doesn’t check.

He lies back down next to Kurusu, who looks over at him with a lazy, satisfied grin. “Really just want that to be the only time?” Kurusu asks.

Goro hesitates.

A thousand different things he could do with Kurusu, a thousand ways to be close to what he’s starting to realize is the most worthwhile person in his life, a thousand experiences to share. He _could_ have that. He could find a way to make it work. He’s already juggling so much; a little extra wouldn’t be that hard. 

And then a metal wall crashes into his thoughts, scattering them with one sentence: _one day you will have to choose._

He can’t allow Kurusu to become a priority, because if he does then one day his priorities will collide. Kurusu, or the revenge that has consumed his life for years? And there is only one way that choice can go, and making it will destroy him.

Better to not allow that to happen in the first place. Better to keep Kurusu at arm’s length, an enjoyable but unimportant pastime that he can safely put aside when the time comes. 

“Much as I enjoyed this, I’m afraid the answer is yes,” Goro says, so evenly, so neutrally. “My circumstances still have not changed.”

Kurusu exhales. Stares up at the ceiling.

“Okay,” Kurusu says.

Goro is about to say _I’m glad you understand,_ but then Kurusu follows it up with, “Different phrasing, maybe. I’ll try that.”

\---

**6/10**

**Individual: 11. Cumulative: 124.**

Goro already suggested to the hostess that she pick out the messy-haired Shujin student in the audience, of course, and she’s smart enough to not ask why. Still, it’s satisfying to see her do it, bring him into the conversation and force him to say his piece.

His voice does sound rather different than it did yesterday. Perhaps he had a cold. This one’s a lot better, anyway.

 _Akira Kurusu,_ the contact info transferred to his phone says. A real name to attach to the leader of that bizarre little group, beyond the moniker they’d used in Madarame’s Palace. Not that _Joker_ doesn’t have a peculiar appeal, but it’s larger than life, better suited to the Metaverse than the real person standing in front of him. 

“Well, I’m sure your friends are waiting for you, so I won’t take up any more of your time,” Goro says, and turns to leave.

“Actually,” Kurusu says, casually, “are you busy after this?”

Goro pauses. “Not immediately,” he says. “Why?”

Kurusu jerks a thumb back to a nearby hallway. “There’s a janitor’s closet back there, so I was wondering if I could blow you in it,” he says.

…perhaps a larger than life moniker fits the real world one as well.

Goro’s bland expression freezes. Quietly, he says, “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to leave. Calling security would cause a scene I’m sure neither of us would prefer.”

Kurusu puts his hands up in a defensive gesture. “It’s not a weird fan thing, I promise,” he says. “Maybe I should have phrased that differently. There’s a janitor’s closet back there, so I was wondering if we could go there and talk about how you’re a secret assassin and _then_ I can blow you.”

Goro is not often left stunned. Silent, perhaps, taking a moment to choose the correct word or to wait for whoever he’s talking to to finish ranting. And even he sometimes needs to take time to think. But very, very rarely does he genuinely have absolutely no idea how to respond to something.

Cold calculation hits him like a tidal wave. Taking Kurusu somewhere no one can see or hear them sounds like a _very good idea, actually,_ so he smiles and says, “Well, if you put it that way,” and gestures for Kurusu to lead the way.

Kurusu does, and the closet they end up in is a little more spacious than Goro expected; enough room for two people to stand in, at least. Not that one of them will be standing for long. The metal shelves look stable enough; if he slams Kurusu’s head against one of them, Kurusu will be dizzy enough to not defend himself when Goro goes for his throat.

The door clicks behind them. Goro’s smile falls off his face.

“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to kill me, by the way,” Kurusu says. “I’ve got enough psychological weirdness going on with that anyway, I don’t need more.”

Is everything Kurusu says designed to throw Goro off his game? Regardless, it makes him take a second to consider--this whole situation is _ridiculous,_ he needs more information. There’s nothing stopping him from killing Kurusu _after_ he learns what the fuck is going on.

“Very well,” Goro says, in the steadiest voice he can muster. “What’s your goal here?”

Kurusu blinks. “I already said it,” he says. “We could do the conversation after, if you want?”

Goro pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a calming breath. Joker really does live up to his name. “How much do you know?” he asks.

“For the sake of argument, assume that I know literally everything about your situation,” Kurusu says, like that isn’t horrific. “So there’s no point in trying to hide anything, because I already know.” He starts counting off on his fingers. “You first entered the Metaverse two years ago, your first accidental kill was Wakaba Isshiki, your dad’s name is--”

Goro claps a hand over Kurusu’s mouth, pushes him against the closed door. God, this can’t possibly be real, Kurusu’s just some random high schooler, how can he know _any_ of that, Goro’s heart beats faster and faster as sick dread rises in his brain--“If you know so much, give me a better reason why I shouldn’t kill you right here,” he hisses.

Kurusu raises an eyebrow. Glances down at the hand covering his mouth.

Goro removes it and puts it on Kurusu’s throat instead.

Kurusu seems strangely unbothered by this.

“First off, you’d be missing out, I’m _great_ at blowjobs,” he says. “Second off, I also know that your dad’s planning on having you killed after the election. So if you want to avoid that, you should probably listen to me?”

Which isn’t actually a surprise, Goro guessed it months ago. But _no one_ knows Shido is his father, not even Shido, so _how does Kurusu?_

Unless Shido _does_ know.

As ice sets into his spine, Kurusu says, “Actually, yeah, I should’ve led with this. Your dad knows who you are. I think he’s known from the start, maybe? It wasn’t clear.”

Shido knows. _Shido knows._ Goro’s world is crumbling beneath his feet. Shido _always_ knew? Was all of this for nothing? Two years of obedience and bloody hands and watching his soul fray into tatters for _nothing?_

“It’s okay though!” Kurusu says hastily. “I’m here to help! You saw the rest of my group, right? We can work together to change your dad’s heart! Well, maybe in a few months, we’re not really…anyway, it’s totally doable.”

Blood roars in Goro’s ears. It doesn’t even _matter_ how Kurusu knows, because if Shido does then he might as well just--

His grip on Kurusu’s throat tightens.

Kurusu sighs. “Okay, I botched this one,” he says inscrutably. “Too early, I guess. Just get it over with.”

He does.

\---

**6/10**

**Individual: 12. Cumulative: 125.**

“Actually,” Kurusu says, casually, “are you busy after this?”

Goro pauses. “Not immediately,” he says. “Why?”

Kurusu smiles. There’s an edge to it, sharp and sly and lascivious. “I’m a _huge_ fan,” he says. “I’d like to show my appreciation.”

Goro raises an eyebrow. “I’m afraid if you’re looking to chase a celebrity, I’m a poor target,” he says. “For one thing--”

Kurusu makes a dismissive gesture. “Yeah, I know, you’re _not inclined,_ you don’t want to risk scandal, I’m just some random guy not worth your time, all that jazz,” he says. “Counterpoint: you gave me your number, which you’ve never done to a stranger before, you’ve already figured out I’m a Phantom Thief so you know I can keep a secret, and again, the Phantom Thief thing.”

A warning siren sounds in Goro’s mind. “Those are some daring assumptions,” he says carefully. “Even if you _were_ a Phantom Thief, how could I possibly know? I only met you yesterday, and we’ve barely spoken.”

“Ryuji’s not subtle,” Kurusu says, somewhat fondly. “There’s no way you didn’t overhear him saying it.”

Interesting. And true, of course, but moreover, if that’s Kurusu’s reasoning, he doesn’t seem to be aware that Goro _actually_ found out by seeing them in the Metaverse. The warning siren dies down a bit.

“You seem…oddly unconcerned about this,” Goro says. “You _do_ know I work for the police, yes? What’s to stop me from telling them?”

Kurusu shrugs one shoulder. “I mean, you _could,”_ he says. “But ‘I overheard some teenagers talking’ isn’t compelling evidence. If you wanted to make a case against us, you’d wait for something more substantial. Assuming you even wanted to. I reiterate the number thing.”

Goro narrows his eyes. “And how do you know about _that,_ by the way?”

Kurusu actually _winks._ “Come to the janitor’s closet with me and I’ll tell you,” he says in a low voice.

Goro gives him an unimpressed look. “Yes, going to a secluded location with a stranger who’s admitted to being a criminal is a _brilliant_ idea,” he says drily.

“Not a _violent_ criminal,” Kurusu insists, which is ironic given how handily he sliced up those Shadows, but he does have a point. Sort of.

Well. Why not. Regardless of Metaverse abilities, Kurusu looks like any other scrawny teenager; he’s unlikely to secretly be a martial artist, and Goro doubts a fight would last very long, much less an assassination attempt. At worst, he’ll have to explain to an employee that he was randomly assaulted and had to defend himself.

“Fine,” Goro says. “But I should warn you that any attempt at a physical altercation will not go well for you.”

“Yeah, I’ve definitely learned _that,”_ Kurusu says heavily.

The closet they end up in is a little more spacious than Goro expected; enough room for two people to stand in, at least. He leans against one shelf and eyes Kurusu. “So,” he says. “Care to explain how you’re aware of how many people I give my phone number to?”

Kurusu crosses his arms, leans against the opposite shelf. “Okay, that one was a guess,” he says. “You’re a celebrity, you can’t exactly hand out your contact info to anyone. Probably the people who _do_ know your number are the ones you work with, who wouldn’t qualify as strangers. And even if you aren’t _actually_ an idol, you probably still have to deal with the ‘no dating or it ruins your image’ thing. So. Giving your number to some random high schooler wouldn’t be a common occurrence for you. I assume.”

It’s hardly a difficult deduction. Still, it shows Kurusu’s at least a little bit of a thinker, to go along with his interesting perspective and Metaverse skills. Goro finds more of his frostiness thawing.

“Another question, then,” Goro says. “Why could you only tell me this in a janitor’s closet?”

“Oh, _that’s_ because I was really hoping I could blow you,” Kurusu says, casually. “I wasn’t lying _that_ much when I said I was a fan. Just, you know, less of the Detective Prince and more of Goro Akechi.”

Of course Goro figured that’s what Kurusu was leading to with this. It wouldn’t be the first time a fan tried to corner him somewhere with bright eyes and suggestive words, not even a male one. It _would_ be the first time someone…interesting, did.

“You do realize your word against mine would be nothing if you decided to tell anyone,” Goro says pleasantly.

Kurusu nods. “Oh yeah,” he says. “Trust me, it’s not a problem. I have zero plans to advertise how this went.”

Goro eyes Kurusu up and down. Pretty face, nice eyes; long legs, hair that would probably be fun to pull. Not a bad fit, all things considered. Add the intelligence and the intrigue and he’s probably as close to a type as Goro’s got.

“I suppose it could be interesting,” Goro says, and reaches over to click the lock shut.

At the very least, if Kurusu tries anything he’ll get to enjoy defending himself.

Kurusu looks oddly relieved. “Okay, great,” he says, and puts his glasses in his pocket and drops to his knees.

Quick on his feet, too. Long fingers swiftly undo the fly on Goro’s pants, pull down all the fabric enough to take out Goro’s cock. He’s not hard yet, but he’s interested to see how quickly Kurusu can manage to change that.

Kurusu leans in, gives the head of Goro’s cock a little lick. Swirls his tongue around it in a slow, careful motion, not overenthusiastic, hardly the clumsy fumbling Goro would expect from any random teenager. But if Kurusu’s the type to propose blowing a stranger in a janitor’s closet then he’s probably got his share of experience.

Goro’s cock starts to react to the attention. Not that Goro has an excess of experience; but he has at least figured out what he likes, more or less. He runs a hand through Kurusu’s hair, which turns out to not be as tangled as it looks. Clenches some of it between his fingers and pulls.

Kurusu makes an interesting noise and slides his tongue down the length of Goro’s cock.

Goro idly imagines some situations, just to speed things along. Gripping Kurusu’s head with both hands and fucking his mouth like an object. Coming on his face, narrowly avoiding those eyes of his and watching it drip from his bangs and eyelashes. Pushing him face-first against the wall and fucking him then and there, no lube, no condom, leaving Kurusu to deal with the semen dripping out of him and the bite marks on his neck. 

Maybe he’s starting to get a little invested.

He’s almost fully hard now, between Kurusu’s efforts and his own thoughts; Kurusu takes the opportunity to take more of Goro’s cock into his mouth, sliding his head forward until his nose bumps against Goro’s waist.

 _Very_ experienced, apparently, as he takes Goro’s entire cock down his throat without any complaint besides a soft hum.

Kurusu looks up at Goro from his obscene position. Lowers his eyelashes in an expression made no less sultry by the cock in his mouth.

What the fuck even _is_ Kurusu.

Kurusu laves his tongue around Goro’s cock and pulls back, saliva shining on his lips. “I know I said I’m really good at this, but I’d be down with it if you wanted to just fuck my face,” he says, conversationally.

“…well, if you insist,” Goro says, and takes the opportunity to shove his cock through Kurusu’s still-parted lips.

Kurusu makes a brief startled sound, then closes his eyes and gets back to work with his tongue. Not that there’s much work he _can_ do; Goro reconsiders his fantasy of barely a minute ago and takes hold of Kurusu’s head, pulls it towards him and thrusts into the inviting wet heat of Kurusu’s throat.

Skill or no, it’s probably easier to handle a cock down your throat if you’re allowed to do it on your own terms; Goro doesn’t give Kurusu room to breathe, thrusts hard and unrelenting. His own breath goes heavy. None of his previous partners seemed likely to be interested in this even if he’d felt like asking; but Kurusu suggested it himself, didn’t seem even a little unsure when it started. He takes Goro’s cock like there’s nothing he’d rather do. It’s intoxicating, seeing him like this, and Goro wonders what else Kurusu might suggest, if there was more time.

Goro grips Kurusu’s hair what must be painfully tight. The noises Kurusu’s making seem involuntary, not distressed, and his fingers dig into his pants hard enough that they must be leaving marks on the skin underneath. Goro’s breath stutters at the idea.

Kurusu’s hard himself, despite not being touched, but he doesn’t seem to be doing anything about it. Goro briefly considers, then nudges at one of Kurusu’s knees with his shoe. Kurusu obligingly moves it aside, spreads his legs apart more.

The angle is slightly awkward, but Kurusu can deal with it. Goro moves his shoe forwards, presses it firmly against Kurusu’s clothed erection.

The sound Kurusu makes around Goro’s cock is _delightful._

As he thrusts, Goro increases the pressure on Kurusu’s groin. He can’t really feel it through the shoe, but the soundtrack and the way Kurusu trembles more than make up for it. Kurusu’s cock strains against the fabric, clearly outlined now against his uniform pants. 

With another thrust, Goro’s cock slams against Kurusu’s soft palate and slides down the wet wall of Kurusu’s throat. Presumably involuntary tears are rolling down from the corners of Kurusu’s tightly-shut eyes, and saliva threatens to drip down his chin. But he shows no interest in pulling away.

Goro pauses, wipes the drop of saliva off the corner of Kurusu’s mouth. “You really _are_ good at taking cock,” Goro murmurs. “How much did you have to practice? How many men have you been on your knees for like this? I can’t imagine they were all perfect gentlemen about it. Maybe you got used to that? Maybe you _wanted_ that, like you asked for it now. I can just picture you going from stranger to stranger, asking them to choke you with their cock. Some of them probably thought you were a whore, but even whores need the paycheck. You do it for _free.”_

The idea of Kurusu practicing on some series of faceless men makes Goro feel a lot of things, most of them uncomfortable. But it must have happened, more or less; Kurusu doesn’t seem the type for candlelit romance. Nature or nurture, he thought nothing of getting on his knees for a stranger in a janitor’s closet, and there must be _some_ reason for it.

Goro brushes his thumb across Kurusu’s soft lip, stretched around his cock. “Did you ask them to fuck you, too?” he murmurs. “Earlier I thought about pushing you against this wall and doing just that. Something makes me think both your holes have seen a lot of use. Was it just one a night, or did you sometimes spend hours stuffed full of cock until it was all you could think about?”

Kurusu whines, a high, keening sound that resonates around his cock. Goro pushes his shoe harder against Kurusu’s groin, and the whine sharpens beautifully.

Goro’s close; his own breath has turned to pants, he can feel sweat gathering on his back. But he doesn’t want to end it yet, wants to wring more noise out of Kurusu.

He pulls back and thrusts again, shoving the entirety of his cock into wet heat once more. Kurusu makes a slight gagging sound; maybe he actually can’t take much more of this. Well. Goro can at least try to end it with a bang.

He brushes Kurusu’s sweaty hair out of his eyes, strokes his thumb against the line of tears. Kurusu opens his eyes, watery under those long lashes, pupils almost eclipsing his irises.

“Whoever those men were, none of them can compare to _me,”_ Goro says, his voice low and ragged. “I’ll ruin you for anyone else’s cock, Kurusu. Your body belongs to _me.”_

And he grips Kurusu’s head tight as he comes, jets of semen splattering down Kurusu’s throat.

Kurusu does gag this time, but swallows dutifully anyway, and as Goro pulls out he licks his cock clean. 

Then he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, gives a stupidly charming grin, and hoarsely says, “Yeah, that’s been true for a while now.”

Insufferable. Goro leans down to shove Kurusu against the closet door. He lands on the floor with a sharp exhale, back leaning against the door, legs still spread.

Goro takes a step forward and steps _hard_ on Kurusu’s groin. Kurusu actually yelps, which is strangely endearing. 

“Even after that, you’ve still got a mouth on you,” Goro says. “I wonder what it’d take to shut you up.”

He considers unzipping Kurusu’s pants and really going for it, but he doesn’t want to have to clean off his shoe afterwards. So he just leans until most of his weight must be on his foot, pressing down hard on Kurusu’s still-clothed erection. 

Kurusu’s breathing so hard it almost sounds like he’s hyperventilating. His sweaty hair sticks to his face, his lips are still swollen; he looks thoroughly fucked, even though he technically wasn’t. Goro takes a mental snapshot to preserve the sight.

Goro shifts his foot, angles it to the side, _grinds._ Kurusu squeezes his eyes shut, lets his head fall back, exposes the throat that took Goro’s cock so readily. A too-loud moan starts to fall from his lips before he presses his arm over his mouth to prevent the sound from alerting anyone outside. Thoughtful of him.

It doesn’t take long before Kurusu makes a high, muffled keen and a dark spot starts to form on the front of his pants. Goro withdraws his foot, adjusts his own clothing. Watches Kurusu slumped panting against the door, wrecked and beautiful.

Kurusu looks back up at him. Grins again.

“Might’ve overdone it this time,” he rasps.

Inscrutable. But maybe his usual dalliances don’t quite take that turn. Goro feels strangely proud knowing that this one did.

Kurusu staggers to his feet, wipes some sweat off his face. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. So. Phantom Thieves. Yeah.” He takes a deep breath, exhales. 

Goro glances at the door, slightly frowns. “I actually do have an appointment soon,” he says. “You have my number, you can text me later.”

“…sure,” Kurusu says heavily. “Later. I’ll do that.”

Goro tilts his head. “So it would be helpful if you would step away from the door,” he says.

Kurusu steps aside, leans against a shelf. “I think I need a break anyway,” he mutters. He certainly _sounds_ exhausted, which Goro can hardly blame him for. “Aquarium, maybe.”

Goro raises an eyebrow. “Aquarium?” he repeats, curious.

Inexplicably, Kurusu waves. “Don’t worry, I’ll come back,” he says. “Not that you would, I guess. God, my jaw aches. Yeah. Aquarium. I can still do this.”

\---

**2/2**

**Individual: 1. Cumulative: 237.**

Akira smiles, a little crookedly. “Just wait for me,” he says.

And then--

Out of nowhere, Akira stumbles like he tripped on air. The worried look is gone from his face, replaced by surprise. He steadies himself, looks back up at Goro, blinks.

From behind him, a young, strained female voice says, “Trickster, that is not what we intended when we made the offer.”

Goro moves his head to see Lavenza, standing in the middle of Leblanc. Her normally pale face is fully scarlet, and her grip on her book is clenched tight.

Akira turns halfway. His expression turns sheepish. “Uh,” he says. “I didn’t exactly _mean_ to--”

“But you did,” Lavenza says. She can’t seem to look either of them in the eye. “I realize that you were under a lot of stress--”

“No, I’ve got a good explanation,” Akira says, and then does not say anything.

Goro watches all of this in absolute bafflement. “What the fuck are you _talking about,”_ he says.

And an avalanche of memories hits him like a truck.

It’s his turn to stumble, backing against the door. The weight of it all is overwhelming; for a moment he’s not sure where he is, when he is. Flickers of Akira underneath him, against him, a catalogue of sounds and skin and heat, over and over and over and _over--_

He looks at Akira, feeling a little faint.

Akira rubs the back of his neck. “So,” he says. “Uh. Tomorrow happens, and it goes pretty well overall but kind of terribly for you, and Lavenza and Igor said that might _not_ happen if I could change some things, and--”

“I killed you _forty-eight times,”_ Goro manages to say.

Akira exhales sharply. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, I’m gonna…I’m gonna need _so_ much therapy.”

Lavenza clears her throat. “We must at least acknowledge the attempt,” she says, her face a little less red as she manages to look at them. “My master has made some arrangements. Provided you put in the same effort you did on your first try, the events of tomorrow will be more to your liking.”

“…you mean it?” Akira says slowly. “He’ll be okay?”

Lavenza nods. “Though whatever other effects your actions have wrought are entirely your problem,” she says. “Now, farewell. If you ever feel you must ask us for a favor again, please sort out your feelings beforehand.”

And in a blink, she disappears. It’s just the two of them again, standing in the stillness of Leblanc.

Akira promptly walks to the counter and collapses onto a chair.

“What were you _thinking,”_ Goro blurts out, now that the overload from the memories has receded enough for more words to be possible.

Akira looks up at him. “Mostly I was thinking that I didn’t want you to be dead,” he says, tiredly. “And then I kept trying different stuff but none of it was working, and it just kind of…” He makes a vague gesture. “Snowballed.”

Goro sits down next to him. Feels as exhausted as Akira looks. “Well,” he says. “I suppose if it worked, then…” He’s not sure how to finish the sentence.

He doesn’t want to die. His feelings are a bit all over the place right now, but he can at least be grateful that apparently he’s not going to die. Tomorrow, anyway.

“Yeah,” Akira says. His head drops back down onto the counter. “And also I now have confirmation you’re into the same stuff I am, which is nice.”

“Nice,” Goro repeats. Even in the winter chill, he feels a bit overheated.

“Mm,” Akira says vaguely. He blinks up at Goro. “I think I could sleep for a week,” he says. “How about you?”

“…perhaps,” Goro says. To be honest, he was already rather tired when he came here, but it wasn’t quite…physically.

Akira stands off the chair, stretches, yawns. “Okay,” he says. “I think by now we can dispel with the pretense that we don’t have really complicated feelings about each other?”

Goro slowly nods. 

Akira gestures to the stairs. “And we also know my bed can fit two if you’re willing to get close,” he says. “Which we have also proved neither of us would mind.”

Goro raises an eyebrow. “Eighty-nine times you’ve invited me to bed, and this is the first time it’s been to actually sleep,” he says drily.

Akira gives a tired smile. “First time for everything,” he says. “C’mon. Of all the sordid fantasies I’ve gotten to fulfill, I still haven’t managed sleeping in your arms.”

Goro gets off the chair, follows Akira. Says, softly, “I suppose I’d be okay with that.”

And for once, Akira’s smile is one he can mirror.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [Tumblr](http://www.futuresoon.tumblr.com) and [Twitter.](http://www.twitter.com/futuresoonest)


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